


Fuzzy and Blue

by literature_and_ocean_waves



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men (Original Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, M/M, azazel is a good dad, hank learns to grow a spine, kurt is a precious little baby, part of my au, seriously tho i looooove polyamorous mystique, so yeah this one is a bit weird
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-18 23:35:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7335535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literature_and_ocean_waves/pseuds/literature_and_ocean_waves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"“Well,” a voice called out. “The stars must have aligned just right for the Beast to emerge from his den!”</p>
<p>Hank took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Hello, Raven.” he said."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuzzy and Blue

Hank McCoy yawned and stretched out his long arms, leaning backwards in his chair. He had been up since dawn and the strain of so many hours toiling away at his experiments was starting to take its toll. He glanced over longingly at the coffee pot, but shook his head. 

“You need a somewhat regular sleep schedule, McCoy.” he said to himself. “Doctor’s orders.” Well, Charles’s orders, but whatever. He had a PhD; close enough. “No coffee after noon and no naps.”

He yawned again and stood up, smoothing down his shirt and readjusting his glasses. Perhaps a snack would do him some good and maybe a walk around the grounds. He doubted anyone was out there right now. 

He exited his lab and wandered in the direction of the kitchen. The air smelled sweeter than usual, though that was probably just because he had been in his lab so long. Goodness, when had he last been out? He had taken to sleeping in there lately. Especially because of… well, he was not going to finish that thought. 

He heard the pitter-patter of little feet and looked up to see a small, white-haired blur come bolting towards him. He grinned and opened his arms as the young girl tumbled into him. 

“Hi, Mr. Hank!” Ororo said, a bright, happy smile bringing out the dimples in her cheeks. She hugged him tight.   
Hank laughed and scooped her up, giving her a warm hug in return. “Hello, Ms. Ororo.” he said. “Where did you come from?”

Ororo giggled. “Africa!” she said, grinning the way all eleven year old children do when they have made a rather terrible joke. 

Hank snorted. “Well you are not wrong.” he replied, affectionately ruffling her long, pretty, alabaster braids. “And where might you be off to now?” he asked. 

Ororo beamed up at him. “The Professor gave me permission to try out my little rain clouds!” she said. “I am gonna go with Ms. Moira to help water her green house!” 

Hank felt a swell of pride bloom in his chest. “That is wonderful, Ro’!” he said, setting her down again. Creating miniature clouds that could rain small doses of water was something that she had been hoping to practice with for a long time. If Charles was giving her the opportunity to try it with Moira’s plants, then she must have been successful already. “Way to go!”

“Thank you!” Ororo said, bouncing on her feet. “I gotta go or I’m gonna be late for Ms. Moira. See you later, Mr. Hank!” She waved goodbye and he waved back, then she scampered down the hall towards the office space that Moira used for analyzing her CIA documents. Hank shook his head at Ororo’s precious enthusiasm and started off on his own food-finding mission again. Ororo was a great kid. And a very powerful mutant, at that. She would make a fine X-Men one day. 

Hank finally reached the kitchen and was surprised to find Alex there, munching on some bowls of mac and cheese with his little brother. 

“Hello, Alex. Scott.” Hank said, getting out some supplies from the fridge for a PB&J sandwich. Alex gave him a nod and gestured for him to join them. Scott seemed much too preoccupied with biting his baby carrots in half to give much notice. Hank wasn’t offended. Kids were weird; it was their nature. 

Sandwich now completed, with some potato chips and a glass of apple juice to accompany it, Hank sat down with the Summers brothers. Scott, having successfully devoured all his poor, helpless carrots, gave him a smile. “What have you been up to, Dr. McCoy?” he asked, polite as ever. 

Hank smiled back. “Just working on some experiments.” he said and ruffled Scott’s brown hair. “Might have found a material to make your shades even stronger, so you may get a new pair soon.” 

Scott looked delighted by this idea, immediately babbling on about some “super cool styles” that he had seen in a magazine the other day and how he would need to pick the perfect one for these possible, improved glasses. Alex discreetly rolled his eyes and gave Hank a look of apology for his brother’s nonstop chattering. Hank just grinned at him. He had been a teacher at this school for over three years now; if he could not handle an eight year old’s excited ramblings then he clearly had not been teaching enough. 

Then again. He hadn’t exactly been doing that much teaching these last few months. He could pretend that it was because he had too many experiments taking up his time, but he knew deep down that wasn’t true. Still. He had been in avoidance mode this long; he could keep it going a bit more. It was what he did best. 

Hank put his dishes in the sink, offered for Scott to bring him the magazine later so that they could pick a glasses frame, gave Alex a pat on the shoulder, and then left again. He walked out on the grounds, inhaling the cool, wet air. April had arrived and brought spring with it early. The rains from yesterday had melted away, leaving the sky a brilliant blue. Hank walked around an oak tree and put his hand on the trunk. The leaves were already starting to bud on the upper branches; it was gorgeous. 

He strolled leisurely around the mansion, no fear of anyone spotting him. The nearest humans were about three miles away and the gates to the property were always locked. It was nice to be outside again; Hank had never liked winter much. He was cooped up indoors and even though he could have worked on his many projects, the weather always made him feel rather lethargic. At least out here he could breathe and think. 

An hour later, Hank was almost back at the house’s front door, contemplating that issue he had been having with the microbots experiment, when suddenly he stopped in his tracks. Sitting on the lawn, a soft blanket underneath him, was Azazel. He was talking to something small lying on the blanket with him. He rattled a green rattle at the little thing, who was giggling cutely at all the attention. He shook his teensy fist and attempting to grab the rattle for his own. Azazel laughed. 

“Net, net , malen'kiy kotenok.” Azazel said. “No rattle for you. You’ll just chew it to bits again.” He did, however, hand him a stuffed bear, which the baby was all too happy to smother with hugs. 

Hank stared at the two of them, unsure of where to go. Azazel made no move to act like he had seen him, but Hank knew that he had. The man was a master at situational awareness; he had probably noticed Hank before Hank had noticed him. Still, Hank had no idea what he was supposed to do now. 

Hank smelled her before he saw her. A rich, honeyed-spice that made his shoulders tense up and his heart thump wildly in his chest. Well he was the one who had followed the siren’s call of the outdoors. And now he was paying for it. Should have just stayed in his lab. 

“Well,” a voice called out. “The stars must have aligned just right for the Beast to emerge from his den!”

Hank took a deep breath, steeling himself. “Hello, Raven.” he said. 

Raven sauntered up to him, blue and scaled and naked. As she had been for the past three years. In fact, she looked completely the same. Well, apart from- Hank cut off his own trail of thought. 

“So what brings you to the surface today?” Raven asked. She sounded different than Hank would have expected. Less wrathful. Maybe the spring weather was making everyone more jovial. 

“Just… felt like going for a walk.” Hank offered, still intensely avoiding eye contact. The “If I can’t see it, it can’t see me” logic. Maybe his codename should have been “Ostrich”. 

“Fair enough.” Raven replied. She watched him watch Azazel and the child, and Hank knew that she was smiling while she did so. He could feel it. 

“They are precious, aren’t they?” she said after a few minutes. Azazel had abandoned the rattle and instead was playing a very interesting game of peekaboo. Which involved him actually disappearing. In a puff of smoke. Then reappearing for the little one to laugh and laugh at all the silliness. Had the situation been different, Hank might have found it rather cute. 

“They certainly are… playful.” Hank answered, selecting his words cautiously. A rather difficult feat considering his natural awkwardness. Raven apparently did not notice. 

“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “Azazel’s turned out to be a pretty good dad. He’s taken to this parenting thing even more than me!” She turned to Hank, grinning. “Can you believe it?! The old Hellfire Club’s number one hitman!”

A year ago, Hank would not have been able to believe it. Azazel might have been a gentleman and his kindness showed itself in more places than Hank would have expected, but his fawning over a baby would not have been something that Hank could have pictured. At all. Yet here it was. 

“That is good to hear, Raven.” Hank said, meaning it. “You deserve someone who can take care of your child.”

He risked looking over at her and regretted it immediately. Raven’s grin had vanished and been replaced by a look that only could be described as probing. She was staring deeply at him and Hank was reminded of a conversation that they once had nearly four years ago. About compliments and shoes. 

“Hank,” Raven said, slowly, serious expression still unnerving him. “We are going to have to talk about it eventually, you know…”

Hank’s blood turned to icy cold and his stomach dropped like it had fallen from a thirty-story building. This was exactly what he had been avoiding; why he hadn’t been out in so long. 

“Talk about what, Raven?” he asked and the lie sounded fake, even to his own ears. Raven glared, golden eyes growing brighter the way they always did when she was irritated. 

“Oh don’t play dumb, Hank.” she said, gnashing her teeth a little. “It does not suit you at all.” She forcibly turned him so that they were face-to-face. “The giant mutant elephant in the room?”

Hank felt something inside him snap at her words. Maybe it was his lack of sleep. Maybe it was the change in the seasons. Or maybe it was Hank having to face his fears and talk to this woman for the first time in months. 

“What, Raven?” he growled, voice low with animalistic intentions. “What is there to say about it? The three of us got stupidly drunk. There is nothing to talk about.” Hank’s fur was bristling with his unpleasant emotions. But Raven, who feared absolutely nothing, not even him, stood her ground. 

“Nothing to talk about? Ha!” She pointed over in Azazel’s direction. “You must really suck as scientist, McCoy. Because one big reason to talk about it is currently sitting on our lawn and chewing on his little blue toes.”

The jab at Hank’s scientific abilities stung. More than it should have. He bared his sizable teeth at her. 

“He is your son, Raven.” Hank said. “Yours and Azazel’s. This has nothing to do with me.”

Raven rolled her eyes at him, overly dramatic but undoubtedly furious. “You’re really just gonna stick your head in the sand on this one, aren’t you?” she asked. 

X-Men Ostrich reporting for duty, Hank’s ill-timed mind provided. 

Thankfully, his mouth had the barest amount of common sense to keep it to himself and he stayed quiet. But even that was not the appropriate response because Raven growled. 

“Both Charles and you confirmed it with all your fancy genetics testing, Hank.” she said, spitting the words out like they were acid on her tongue. “You cannot run away from this.” She gave him a very mean smile. “Science owned your furry, blue ass on this one.”

Hank felt like giving her some vulgar comeback about who had owned whose ass March last year, but that would have just proven her point. Again, he said nothing. And again, it only made her angrier. 

“He is your son, too, Hank.” she said, voice steady with conviction. “And no matter how much you cower away in your little hole in the basement that is not going to change.”

And there it was. The very words that Hank had indeed, if he was as honest with himself as she had been, been hiding from. An ugly stew of fear and anger welled up inside him, pouring out in hurtful words and beastly snarls. 

“So what?!” Hank shouted. “What difference does it make?!” His eyes felt the hot burn of unshed tears and he silently cursed himself; he had always been one to cry when he was mad. “What do you want from me, Raven?! Do you want me to be a parent to Kurt?! To play tag-team with Azazel on Daddy time?! Because I can’t do it!” He wiped frantically at his eyes, trying to stop the tears before they had begun. “What do you want from me, godammit?!”

“I want you to acknowledge him!” Raven roared. “Dammit, Hank! I am not asking you to drop everything and raise this child with us!” Raven had lost the battle with her own tears because they were now streaming down her exquisitely lovely, blue face; she just ignored them. “But you won’t even look at him! We tested his blood over four months ago and I feel like I haven’t seen you since then!”

She hadn’t seen him. Hank had made sure of that. A brilliant mind and a powerful fear had led to him developing some pretty good skills for sneaking around the mansion when Raven was not around. 

“Why should I acknowledge him?!” Hank shouted back. “Why should I acknowledge my biggest failure?!”

Raven trembled with rage, her mouth a hard, sharp line and her eyes glowing. “Choose your next phrase very, very carefully, McCoy…” she rumbled. “Because it may be your last” was the underlying threat. 

Hank whimpered softly, defenses dissolving and nerves frayed. “My genes damned this poor child to a life of hiding.” he said. “How can you ask me to acknowledge that?” The tears started to fall and Hank did not even bother to try and stop them. “I am not strong like you, Raven. And I cannot hide the same way.”

Raven’s anger had faded into pure disbelief. “Is that what you think?” she whispered. “That Kurt should hide away and hate himself because of how he looks?”

“He cannot be seen, Raven. You know that.” Hank said, trying to rein his emotions back in with cold, analytical logic. “I’ve been working on a new serum to mask the phenotypic traits, but-“

SLAP!

The harsh, shattering sound of someone being struck rang out through the yard. Raven stared up at Hank, completely enraged, her hand still pulled back from where she had slapped him clean across the face. 

“DON’T YOU DARE!” she shrieked at the top of her lungs. “DON’T YOU DARE TELL MY BABY THAT HE NEEDS TO HIDE! TO COVER UP WHO HE IS JUST BECAUSE SOME HUMANS ARE TOO STUPID TO SEE HIS BEAUTY! HE IS EXACTLY PERFECT JUST THE WAY HE IS!”

Hank’s cheek was throbbing where she had hurt him. “The world won’t accept him!” he yelled. “Oh people like Charles and Erik and Alex are fine. Their gifts are manageable, invisible. Hell! Humans might even find them interesting one day!” When mutants could come out of the shadows that was. “But us? They will never think of us as anything but monsters…”

Raven just glowered. “Is that the humans talking or you, Hank?” she hissed. 

Hank stared at the ground. At his feet. At the damn things that had started this whole mess and had lead him to being a fur-covered beast that could never go out in public again. 

Azazel walked silently over to them, holding Kurt. The baby was fussing, probably scared at all the commotion. Raven took him into her arms, murmuring and rubbing his back. Hank avoided looking at them. 

After a few minutes, Raven spoke again. Her voice was much calmer, but it carried the same command and power as before. “Our son has you fur, Hank.” she said, carefully holding up the tiny babe. “Your beautiful, soft, blue fur. And he is completely perfect.” There was no room in her tone for arguments. “But if you cannot see that, if you only see him as ugly, then I don’t want you around him.” Raven leaned the tired child back against her shoulder and Azazel stood next to her, carrying the blanket and baby stuff. “So congratulations, Dr. McCoy. You got your fucking wish.”

With that, she turned on her heel and strode off, Azazel keeping pace with her long, angry strides. 

Leaving Hank alone in the cool, April air. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hank sat in one of the parlors, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The good stuff that Charles kept in the study’s cabinet. Hank was not much of a drinker, so even the half glass he had had so far was enough to make his brain a bit blurry. Good. He needed it. 

“2:30 drinking?” someone said. Hank glanced up. 

“Hi, Angel.” he said. “And yes.” He swirled his glass a little, the ice cubes clinking against each other in a soothing way, and took another sip. 

Angel snickered. “It’s five o’clock somewhere right?” she asked, looking amused. Hank just grunted and she laughed. “Hey, no judgement, big guy.” she said. “Lord knows I’ve done my share of afternoon tequila shots before…” Considering her complicated past, Hank could easily believe it. She sat down in a chair across from him, sipping some water. Her clothes suggested that she had been doing some training, as did the bit of sweat on her forehead. She stayed quiet and Hank was glad for the peaceful companionship; he rather liked Angel. 

They sat together for a long while, until Angel finally spoke. “So you and Raven had a fight, huh?” she asked. 

Hank jerked his head up in shock. “How did you know?” he asked softly in disbelief. There had been nobody else outside during their argument. 

Angel shrugged nonchalantly. “Well I just saw Raven in the gym kickin’ the shit out of a poor punching bag like it had personally offended her. And then I find you in here drinking, something I don’t think I have ever seen you do.” She took a sip of her water. “I gotta assume that the two are connected.”

Smart girl, Hank thought to himself. Good detective work. It was no wonder she did so well as a scout for the Brotherhood. 

Hank nodded that her hunch had been correct and waited for the inevitable questions. 

“So… what happened?” she asked and Hank sunk lower in his armchair. 

“Nothing.” he said, sounding rather like a petulant child. 

“Liar.” Angel said. Hank just let out an angry sigh. 

“It IS nothing.” He said. “Just… stuff we needed to get out in the open.”

“About Kurt?” Angel asked and Hank internally cursed her astute observational skills. 

“Yes.” he said, staring at the floor. He could feel Angel’s eyes on him and he knew that she was looking at him with pity. 

“You’re hardly a ninja, Hank.” she said, gently. “Don’t think that the whole house hasn’t noticed you avoiding that kid like the plague…”

Hank ran his claws through his hair, exhaustion wearing heavy on his bones. “What do you want me to say, Angel?” he asked, feeling rather like he was talking with Raven again. 

“Nothing.” Angel said. “I’m not in your shoes.” Not that Hank wore shoes very often anymore. “But I don’t like how this is affecting the family.”

Hank felt guilt stab him in the chest at the word. Because family was what the people in this big, crazy house of theirs had become. He knew he had been a burden on his beloved X-Men about all of this, but he could not help it. Despite his rather frightening new form, he was still the cowardly little nerd who could never say anything to anyone. And he doubted that he would ever be more than that. 

“He’s… He’s never going to be normal, Angel.” Hank said, words paused and broken. “Like… you and I could hide while growing up. Your wings can be folded away and I would always just shove my weird feet into shoes.” Overly large shoes usually. But still. It had been manageable. “Kurt? He can’t do any of that. And I know that not all of his phenotypic traits come from me. Azazel had a hand in things too.” The tail had been a dead-giveaway. “But I can’t help the guilt all the same…”

The tears were coming back and Hank knew that he must look like a damn fool, crying into his whiskey like an old drunkard. Angel scooted her chair a bit closer to him. 

“Can I show you something?” she asked. Her tone was soft and tinged with hope. Hank had no idea why. 

“Sure.” he said. 

Angel held out her right arm; Hank stared at her in confusion. “You have seen one of my mutations. My wings. But there is also another one.” She pointed to her arm. “Right here.”

That was new. Since when did Angel have another gift? Hank had seen the wings in action and they were impressive, along with the fireball spitting. All nice references to dragonflies. But he could not see anything remarkable on her arm. 

“I… I don’t know what I am looking for.” he offered stupidly. Angel smirked. 

“Hank, what color am I?” she asked, sounding terribly amused at his expense. Hank blushed. 

“I… well, you’re… brown?” he stammered. Race was a tricky subject and he definitely did not want to accidentally seem a bigot by stepping into something. Angel just laughed at him. 

“Exactly.” she replied, eyes bright. 

“Huh?” Hank said. Angel settled comfortably back into her chair. 

“Do you know where my ancestors came from, Hank?” she asked, smoothing out her sweatpants. 

“Uh, no…?” Hank said, feeling more embarrassed and foolish by the second. “I mean, Salvadore sounds Spanish…”

“It is.” Angel said, nodding. “I’m Caribbean, Hank.” She sounded rather proud of the fact and her smile said the same. “My ancestors came from Spain and Africa and the islands.” Her voice changed, like she was giving a lesson to the students. “The Spaniards came to the islands looking for resources. They brought in African slaves and also enslaved the local tribes. Later all of their different bloodlines began to mix together until no one could tell who had come from where.”

Hank blinked in surprise. “I didn’t know that you were such a historian, Angel.” he said, rather awed. 

Angel chuckled at the compliment, waving her hand in a dismissive way. “Eh. I like stories.” she said. “And Charles showed me how to find the best books in the library.”

So, in other words, giving her an opportunity to educate herself in her own way and at her own pace. Hank smiled gently, affection for his telepathic friend glowing in his heart. “That’s Charles alright.” he said. 

“My point is,” Angel said. “That prior to Spain’s invasion, no people in the whole world looked like me.”

Hank stared at her. “Really?” he asked. She was beautiful, to be sure, but not that unremarkable. 

“Yes.” Angel said. “Nobody else had the same mix of genes that we did.” She beamed proudly. “So, back then, we were considered mutants! Even if they didn’t have such a word for it.” Angel drained the rest of her water. “But do you think that anyone would see us that way now?”

Hank shook his head. “Of course not.” he said. “That would be ridiculous.” 

“Exactly.” Angel said again. “Mutation can become the norm.” She swiped his glass of whiskey and took a sip. Hank did not mind; he was hardly drinking it anyway. “Charles’s blue eyes. Sean’s red hair. The particular shade of brown on my skin.” she listed. “There is still prejudice and hate and so many people who would distrust me for my color. But nobody in their right mind sees it as abnormal.”

She was right, of course. Hank was no fool to think that all the hard work being done in the southern states right now made up for the atrocities that had been committed against so many people who resembled Angel. At least he had never been unjustly denied a job because of the pigment of his epidermis. Hell, he had managed to land a science position at the CIA while still a teenager! In that field, he had absolutely nothing to complain about. 

He nodded and Angel grinned, giving his arm a friendly squeeze. “Listen to me, Hank.” she said. “The world out there is changing so fast. Things are undoubtedly going to be different for this next generation of mutant children. But it won’t be easy unless we help.” Her eyes were serious, filled with passion. “And, yes, there will be many people who will try to treat Kurt badly. But do you really want to be one of them?”

There was absolutely no hesitation for Hank. “No,” he said. “No I do not.”

“Then love him.” Angel said. “Show this beautiful kid that he is something completely new and unique and wonderful.” She smiled at him. “And that he should be proud of all of his parents.”

Hank stood up. No other thoughts were in his mind. “Thank you, Angel.” he said, giving her a quick hug. 

“You’re very welcome.” she replied, drinking the last of his whiskey, and he gave her a big, toothy grin before exiting the salon. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Hank took long strides, his toe claws clicking against the hard, wooden floor. He rapidly glanced into multiple doorways, searching. 

Where would they be?

Hank checked his watch. 3 P.M. 

Ah. Yes. That would make sense. Hank ran as fast as he could to the TV room. 

Just as he had hypothesized, there was Raven and Azazel sitting in front of the television with Kurt. The afternoon soap-operas were playing and, as a commercial break began, Raven seemed to be explaining all the characters to Kurt. 

“And that big guy?” she said. “He’s married to the pretty blonde lady. But what he doesn’t know is that she had an affair with his half-brother and-“

This could go for a while; Raven dearly loved all the drama of her soaps. Hank cleared his throat to get her attention. Raven looked up and glared, handing Kurt off to Azazel’s waiting arms. 

“What do you want, Hank?” she asked angrily and stood up. “We were in the middle of something.”

Hank said nothing. Instead, he closed the last few feet between them, and embraced her in a hug. Raven stiffened in his arms, shocked. 

“What-“ she started, but Hank shook his head. 

“I’m sorry, Raven.” he said, leaning his face against her bright red hair. “I was stupid and selfish and vain. And you had every right to be furious with me…”

She did not say anything at first. Then Raven’s arms, which had been hanging by her side like boards, slowly loosened and wrapped around his fluffy waist.

“Yes, you were.” she said sternly. “And yes, I did.” He could feel her smile against fur. “But…” she trailed off. 

“But,” Hank continued. “But I want to make amends.” He took a deep breath. “And I want to be in Kurt’s life.”

“Really?” Raven asked, leaning up to look at him. 

“Yes.” Hank replied. “I can’t promise that I will be a father figure-“

“Nobody is asking you to.” Raven interrupted. She still sounded a bit irritated, but the earlier rage had burned away and she seemed interested. Hank continued. 

“But I want to be a source of love and support for him.” he said. “I… I want him to feel safe with me and know that I care for him.” Hopefully that would be enough. 

Apparently it was because Raven gave him a tight squeeze of a hug, burying her face in his shoulder and nuzzling affectionately.

“That is all we wanted, too, Hank.” she said. “If you don’t want to be his father, you don’t need to be.” She chuckled good-naturedly. “Azazel has taken over that role with gusto.” She winked teasingly at Azazel and smiled up at Hank. “But you can be his adorably nerdy Uncle Hank who reads him boring science books to help him fall asleep and shows him how to make stink-bombs in his lab.”

Hank’s lips twitched into an embarrassed smile. “I’ve… I’ve never actually made a stink-bomb before.” he said. Raven laughed. 

“Then brush up on your knowledge, buddy.” she ordered, playfully punching him in the arm. “Because you are learning it by tomorrow.”

Tomorrow seemed a bit early considering that Kurt wasn’t even six months old yet and could produce plenty of baby stink-bombs on his own. Still. Raven was the boss. 

“Yes, Ma’am.” Hank answered, smiling.

The tension that had been hovering in the air finally broke and was blown away like an exhausted sigh of relief. Hank sat down on the floor with Raven. Azazel, who had been waiting patiently for them to finish things, sat next to him, holding out Kurt.   
“Somebody wants to say hi.” he said. Hank’s heart sped up, but he took the squirmy baby all the same, leaning him against his chest. 

“Hello, Kurt.” Hank said. Kurt just stuck out his teensy pink tongue at him. 

“Pffft.” he said, as if that answered everything. His mother chortled. 

“Awww.” Raven cooed. “He likes you.” Hank chuckled. 

“I am honored.” he said, tickling the babe. “Hey there, little guy. You are awfully cute.”

Kurt grabbed at Hank’s fur, petting it curiously, before examining the downy fuzz covering his own body and staring up at him. 

“Ahh?” Kurt squeaked, questioning. Hank’s eyes grew soft. 

“That’s right, kiddo.” Hank whispered, brushing his nose against Kurt’s forehead. “I am fuzzy and blue. Just like you.”

 

The End.


End file.
